


Cupcakes & Conversation

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, BAMF Molly Hooper, Conversations, Cupcakes, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Mycroft plays matchmaker, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Doesn't Feel Worthy, Sherlock Feels, Sherlock-centric, The Final Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9651149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Sherlock has been avoiding Molly ever since his sister forced his hand, forced him to admit what he had felt deep down for a long time, because he has felt unworthy of her. His brother, on the other hand, has other ideas.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreenSkyOverMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenSkyOverMe/gifts), [Chitarra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chitarra/gifts).



> So this was inspired by a gifset **GreenSkyOverMe** had directed me to of foreign words that had hard to translate meanings, and I was intrigued by the French phrase used in the fic. I had originally planned for this to be a Molly POV fic and very sad and solemn until series 4 aired and then this popped out. This fic was recently claimed by **Chitarra** in a fic claim I had for Sherlolly fics, so I hope she enjoys it too.

He had done it. He had played his sister’s twisted game and gone too far. Not once but twice he had said the words that he knew Molly had wanted to hear for so long, the words that she was demanding he say first. The first time he said them to get her to reply, to save her life, to get her out of harm’s way because he knew if she died, he would never forgive himself.

And then in a second, he knew better. No. If she died, not only would he never forgive himself, he would lose a chief reason for living because _he loved her_. He did, he truly did, in every and all senses of the phrase. As a friend, as a partner in the romantic sense, he loved Molly Hooper more than he had time to tell her as the countdown continued.

So he said it again and hoped and prayed she realized he was sincere, that he meant it.

And then, like she was giving him a secret from the bottom of her heart, something that she had promised to keep buried and hidden deep in the recesses of her heart and never tell a single soul in the world, she said those three words back, and her life was spared. The connection was cut, her face gone from the screen.

But he could tell he had hurt her. Pulling those words from the depth for him, it had caused damage between them, and he feared it was irreparable.

 _La douleur exquise._ The pain of still caring for someone that you know you can never have. She had to have felt it for...he didn’t know how long. He knew she had fancied him for years, carried a torch for him, but he didn’t know how long ago she had resigned herself to never having him return those feelings. And now, it seemed, the positions were reversed. He did not deserve her, he knew that. Even though the time for games was behind him and the time for patching up things and moving forward was upon him, he couldn’t bring himself to go to her, to tell her it was true, he had meant it, meant those three words. That he was willing to take her decision as to what to do with them and move on from there, whether they acted upon them or left them in the past.

He should have expected she would come to him. Molly had a backbone of steel now; if she was hurt, she would not allow herself to be hurt without recompense for long.

It had seemed prudent somehow to stay with his brother for a bit. Their relationship was different now, and it was taking some delicate navigating, better done if they were not actively trying to avoid each other. Some days were easier than others, the days they didn’t fall into old habits and bring up old hurts, and this morning had been pleasant enough so he was in a good mood. He hadn’t been expecting visitors, but when he saw Molly on the security feed he knew he couldn’t turn her away. He went to the door and opened it, looking at her with what he knew must constitute a nervous expression. “Molly,” he said softly.

“Your brother sent me this with a note to bring them here and make sure they’re gone before he arrives home tonight,” she said, holding up a tray of cupcakes. There were half a dozen, and he recognized them as coming from the bakery that Mycroft would go to for his indulgences. “No temptations that way, the note said.”

“Then I suppose you should come in,” Sherlock said, moving out of the way and for once not entirely wanting to strangle his brother for his urge to meddle.

Molly lowered the cupcakes and came in, looking around. He was well aware Mycroft lived with a means he himself would never attain, so he let her look for a moment before he led the way to the parlour. Mycroft’s kitchen was still depressingly cave-like even though it actually had food now, so better to keep it hidden. Besides, the parlour was surprisingly bright and sunny and not as garish as the rest of the fortress, as he called it. He indicated one of the chairs and Molly sat in it, setting the cupcakes on the table between her chair and another. Sherlock sat in the other chair. “I’m surprised to see you not in a suit,” she said.

He looked down at the pyjamas and dressing gown he was wearing. “I’m on break from cases. A well-deserved vacation, I suppose.” He watched her take the lid off the tray. He could see now the cupcakes were a white cake with butter cream frosting. Very plain, he supposed. Not Mycroft’s typical style. 

“Not a permanent vacation, I hope?” she asked, taking a cupcake from the tray. She did not hand it to him, instead peeling back the paper, and so he took one for himself.

“Perhaps,” he said. She stopped mid-motion. “A lot has happened. I may be needed...elsewhere, for a time.”

“With your sister?” she asked before beginning to take a bite. He gave her a quizzical look but she took her time to enjoy the bite of cupcake she had eaten. “Mmm. Honey cupcake with cherry filling.”

He set his cupcake on the table. “How did you know about Eurus?” he asked.

“ _You_ may have been avoiding me, Sherlock, but I still do go see my goddaughter and I talk to her father. I got some of the story.” She licked a bit of frosting off her hand. “Tell me the rest.”

He didn’t wait to find out what she knew, instead starting from the beginning, telling her everything he knew, about Eurus and her disguises, about her association with Moriarty, about her connection to the ‘Miss Me?’ video, about the night he spent out with her and his blackout, about the night she had them kidnapped, about what she did as a child, about how it all ended...he told her everything, only pausing to ask if she needed clarification and waiting for a nod or a shake of the head before continuing. By the time he was done the tray of cupcakes was empty and the only one left was the one had taken. “And now we are here, with my brother and I waiting to tell our parents that Eurus is still alive and the fallout from that, and trying to mend our relationship. And...then there’s us.”

“And then there’s us,” Molly said quietly. She picked up one of the cupcake wrappers and folded it in half, then folded it in half again. “You do love me, but are you in love with me?” she asked, not looking at him.

“I can’t think of you not being in my life,” he said. “I want to have you close. I need you to be...something.”

“A lover?” she asked gently. “A friend? A companion? A partner?”

“Yes,” he said. “All of it. I just know I need you, but I don’t deserve you. I’ve never deserved you.” He took the wrapper out of her hands and then took one in his. “You have, in many respects, made me a better man, but I am not the best man I can be. Not yet.”

“Well then,” she said, readjusting her hand in his until their fingers were linked, and when he looked at her face he saw she was looking at him with a small smile on her face, “I suppose I need to stick around while you keep working towards that goal, shouldn’t I?”

“I think I would like that very much,” he said.

Her smile grew bigger, and she squeezed his hand before letting go. “You should eat that cupcake before your brother comes home. I gorged on five of them. It’s only fair you get one.”

“I’m thinking lunch might be better, if you’ll give me time to change?” he asked.

“Well, I suppose, but that cupcake might not be here when you get back. Fair warning,” she said.

“As long as you’re still here, I can live with its loss,” he said, giving her a small grin back.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, Sherlock. Don’t worry about that.”

And surprisingly? He didn’t.


End file.
